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wyntir_knightTitle: Take A Chance On Me
Pairing(s): Wheeljack/Smokescreen, Ratchet/Prowl
Species (if applicaple): N/A
Rating: T
Word Count: 1581
Summary: Sometimes, if we're not careful, we can miss what's been under our nose the whole time.
Author's Note: Written in response to Prompt 072 (Fixed) of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 challenge. Sequel to Just Friends? and Bad Day. I can honestly say that I’m not totally sure of this pairing, but my headspace characters tell me that this is how it is to be. So, enjoy! And, hopefully it isn’t too cracked.
You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair
But I think you know, that I can’t let go
Oh you can take your time baby, I’m in no hurry, know I’m gonna get you
You don’t wanna hurt me, baby don’t worry, I ain’t gonna let you
-- ABBA "Take a Chance on Me"
Wheeljack sat in the Oil Bar at a table by himself, drinking his mid-grade in silence. It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone; far from it, but somehow it had worked out that way. All around him the bar was filling up with mechs coming off shift replacing those who were preparing to start theirs. Conversations rose and fell in a steady drone of white noise, with no one voice overpowering any other. Suddenly laughter rose above all the other voices as Jazz said something to Mirage, causing the spy to shift uncomfortably until Smokescreen clapped him on the back amicably and whispered something in his audio. After a moment Mirage joined in with the laughter, his rich tenor rising above the rest as Hound snaked a more-than-friendly arm around his waist.
Wheeljack ignored all of this. The other mechs, the noise, the laughter, even his own energon, dissolved away until all that he was aware of was the table on the other side of the bar. Ratchet and Prowl sat there, heads close together, speaking in quiet voices. Anyone else might have thought they were just in a simple discussion; just two colleagues, two senior officers, discussing the daily workings of the base. Wheeljack knew better though. He had known Ratchet long enough to recognize the signs. In recent weeks he’d become lighter, somehow. It wasn’t obvious and nothing that Wheeljack could name directly, but it was still there. Of course, it helped that Wheeljack himself had helped to instrument that change. Everything dated back to that day when he had agreed to help Smokescreen fix the two of them up by trapping them in an enclosed space until they came to their senses and admitted their feelings for each other.
The ploy had worked like a charm, and now Ratchet was happy. But Wheeljack was finding himself unaccountably miserable. He had gotten over his infatuation vorns ago, but still, seeing them together caused his fuel tank to twist slightly.
“I am happy for him,” Wheeljack said to himself like a mantra.
And he truly was. He and Ratchet were the best of friends and had been for vorns. He was thrilled that Ratchet had finally found someone who seemed to make him happy. Primus knew that the Ratchet deserved all the good things the world had to offer. He had denied himself for far too long, and it was good to see him doing something for himself for once. It had been so long since he had been with anyone; since well before they had left Cybertron, in fact. This new relationship with Prowl was a step in the right direction as far as Wheeljack was concerned. The two of them seemed to balance each other out nicely. Still, it was early in the relationship, so who knew how long things were going to last between them. Ratchet was like a flame. He burned hot and fast and intensely enough to outshine the sun sometimes. Prowl, on the other hand, always struck him more like liquid nitrogen; so cold and logical he could make the fuel in your system freeze with a glance if he wanted to. But, as different as they were, they seemed good together. Prowl seemed to make Ratchet happy, and that was all that mattered.
Wheeljack looked away from the couple and back to his energon, glaring into the pink depths of the cube, trying to control the roiling emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him; emotions that he had not felt for a long time. He had gotten over his crush well before they had left Cybertron and since then, he and Ratchet had been almost like brothers. It was a friendship he would never have traded for anything.
“I’m happy for him,” he thought to himself. “I am happy for him.”
“May I sit here?” a soft voice asked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Wheeljack murmured distractedly, not looking up from his energon.
“I’m sorry?”
Wheeljack looked up, startled to see Smokescreen standing there, a cube in his hand.
“Sorry, uhm, what was that?” Wheeljack asked.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” the Datsun repeated, touching the back of the empty chair with one blue finger.
“Uhm, yeah, sure. Go ahead,” Wheeljack replied, turning back to his drink.
“It’s surprisingly full in here tonight,” Smokescreen said conversationally.
“Yup,” Wheeljack replied, barely listening.
“I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, as the humans say,” Smokescreen continued. “After all, everyone seems relaxed, so maybe that’ll mean a bit of a better attitude around here.”
“Uhn hunh,” Wheeljack muttered, only looking up at his energon to glance over at Ratchet and Prowl.
Smokescreen sat silently, examining Wheeljack as the engineer pretended that he was just distracted. Finally, Smokescreen broached the obvious subject.
“They look good together,” he said, inclining his head toward the far table.
“Yeah. … They do,” Wheeljack replied sadly.
“Funny,” Smokescreen said. “I would have figured you of all people would have been happy for him.”
“What?” Wheeljack said, suddenly fully in tune with the conversation. “Of course I’m happy for him. He’s my best friend. I want him to be happy.”
“Of course you do,” Smokescreen replied.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wheeljack said defensively.
“It doesn’t mean anything except that I agree with you,” Smokescreen shrugged. “It’s about time that Ratchet stepped out a little. After all, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him with anyone.”
“He hasn’t been,” Wheeljack said, more to his cube than to Smokescreen.
“That’s surprising. I would have figured that a mech like him would have … Well, maybe not. He is rather private.”
“He is,” Wheeljack said.
“Still, I'd have figured that someone would have made a move already,” Smokescreen said with a pointed look at Wheeljack.
“I doubt he would have appreciated that,” the engineer replied.
“It’s been my experience that some mechs wouldn’t know a good thing if it came up and bit them on the aft,” Smokescreen said with a shrug.
“And sometimes it’s not a question of not knowing. Sometimes it’s just best to leave a good thing as it is,” Wheljack grumbled.
“Is that why you’ve refused to do anything?”
Wheeljack looked up sharply at Smokescreen.
“What are you talking about?” he asked defensively.
“Look, Jack, I know you’re friends and all, but I also know that … well, let’s just say that I’ve always been very good at noticing what others refuse to look at,” Smokescreen finished.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wheeljack said to his cube.
Smokescreen took another sip of his energon then focused a piercing gaze on his tablemate.
“You can keep lying to yourself or you can do something,” he said. “As I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can actually do something about this. You can tell him how you feel … Don’t say that you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Smokescreen said sharply as Wheeljack started to protest.
When he was sure that Wheeljack wasn’t going to interrupt again he continued, “As I said, you can tell him how you feel or you can get over this. Find someone else. Move on with your life and stop pining.”
“I’m not pining,” Wheeljack grumbled darkly.
“Oh really? And that’s why you’re sitting here all by yourself in a room full of other mechs?” Smokescreen said. “Some of whom would have no problem at all with you approaching them.”
Wheeljack snorted indelicately and took a large swig of his energon. Then, after a moment he looked up at Smokescreen.
“The truth is, I’m not pining,” he said softly. “The truth is, I’m over him. I mean, do you really think that I would have gone along with that scheme of yours if I wasn’t?”
“Yes. I do,” Smokescreen replied. “I think that you’d do anything to ensure his happiness. Even if it means that you’re miserable.”
Wheeljack looked up and seemed about to argue the point, but then dropped his head and stared into the bottom of his cube. He was silent for a long time, and Smokescreen didn’t interrupt. He knew that the engineer would open up when he was ready. His patience was rewarded when Wheeljack looked up, his optics on Ratchet and Prowl.
“I am genuinely happy for him. I really am, and that’s not me putting up a brave front,” he said softly. “I’m just … I don’t know … There’s a portion of me that’s … jealous.” This last word was added in a whisper.
He looked back down into his cube and sighed.
“But I am happy for him, and I wouldn’t change our relationship for the world,” he continued, never looking up. “I do love him, but he’s like a brother to me. I don’t know what I’d do without him, but it’s not … it’s not what it was.”
“So you’ve moved on then? You’re going to stop waiting around and get on with your life?” Smokescreen asked.
“Yes. I have. And I will,” Wheeljack said, looking up at the Datsun.
“Good. It’s about time,” Smokescreen said. He tossed back his energon and stood up. “I hate seeing you miserable.”
“Thanks, Smokescreen. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed to talk to someone,” Wheeljack said, looking less morose.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Smokescreen said as he walked away.
Wheeljack finished his energon and looked up to where Prowl and Ratchet were. He smiled slightly to himself and the couple stood and walked out of the Oil Bar. They weren’t touching in any way, but everything about them said ‘couple’. It really was good to see his old friend happy, he thought.
Suddenly he felt hands on his shoulder and lips brushing against his left audio light.
“Now that you’re done waiting for the doc, remember that I’m still nearby,” a soft voice said, the barest hint of the Towers in the accent.
Then, as quickly as they came, the hands were gone.
“Blue?” Wheeljack whispered, turning around to scan the room.
But Smokescreen was nowhere in sight.
Pairing(s): Wheeljack/Smokescreen, Ratchet/Prowl
Species (if applicaple): N/A
Rating: T
Word Count: 1581
Summary: Sometimes, if we're not careful, we can miss what's been under our nose the whole time.
Author's Note: Written in response to Prompt 072 (Fixed) of the
fanfic100 challenge. Sequel to Just Friends? and Bad Day. I can honestly say that I’m not totally sure of this pairing, but my headspace characters tell me that this is how it is to be. So, enjoy! And, hopefully it isn’t too cracked.You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair
But I think you know, that I can’t let go
Oh you can take your time baby, I’m in no hurry, know I’m gonna get you
You don’t wanna hurt me, baby don’t worry, I ain’t gonna let you
-- ABBA "Take a Chance on Me"
Wheeljack sat in the Oil Bar at a table by himself, drinking his mid-grade in silence. It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone; far from it, but somehow it had worked out that way. All around him the bar was filling up with mechs coming off shift replacing those who were preparing to start theirs. Conversations rose and fell in a steady drone of white noise, with no one voice overpowering any other. Suddenly laughter rose above all the other voices as Jazz said something to Mirage, causing the spy to shift uncomfortably until Smokescreen clapped him on the back amicably and whispered something in his audio. After a moment Mirage joined in with the laughter, his rich tenor rising above the rest as Hound snaked a more-than-friendly arm around his waist.
Wheeljack ignored all of this. The other mechs, the noise, the laughter, even his own energon, dissolved away until all that he was aware of was the table on the other side of the bar. Ratchet and Prowl sat there, heads close together, speaking in quiet voices. Anyone else might have thought they were just in a simple discussion; just two colleagues, two senior officers, discussing the daily workings of the base. Wheeljack knew better though. He had known Ratchet long enough to recognize the signs. In recent weeks he’d become lighter, somehow. It wasn’t obvious and nothing that Wheeljack could name directly, but it was still there. Of course, it helped that Wheeljack himself had helped to instrument that change. Everything dated back to that day when he had agreed to help Smokescreen fix the two of them up by trapping them in an enclosed space until they came to their senses and admitted their feelings for each other.
The ploy had worked like a charm, and now Ratchet was happy. But Wheeljack was finding himself unaccountably miserable. He had gotten over his infatuation vorns ago, but still, seeing them together caused his fuel tank to twist slightly.
“I am happy for him,” Wheeljack said to himself like a mantra.
And he truly was. He and Ratchet were the best of friends and had been for vorns. He was thrilled that Ratchet had finally found someone who seemed to make him happy. Primus knew that the Ratchet deserved all the good things the world had to offer. He had denied himself for far too long, and it was good to see him doing something for himself for once. It had been so long since he had been with anyone; since well before they had left Cybertron, in fact. This new relationship with Prowl was a step in the right direction as far as Wheeljack was concerned. The two of them seemed to balance each other out nicely. Still, it was early in the relationship, so who knew how long things were going to last between them. Ratchet was like a flame. He burned hot and fast and intensely enough to outshine the sun sometimes. Prowl, on the other hand, always struck him more like liquid nitrogen; so cold and logical he could make the fuel in your system freeze with a glance if he wanted to. But, as different as they were, they seemed good together. Prowl seemed to make Ratchet happy, and that was all that mattered.
Wheeljack looked away from the couple and back to his energon, glaring into the pink depths of the cube, trying to control the roiling emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him; emotions that he had not felt for a long time. He had gotten over his crush well before they had left Cybertron and since then, he and Ratchet had been almost like brothers. It was a friendship he would never have traded for anything.
“I’m happy for him,” he thought to himself. “I am happy for him.”
“May I sit here?” a soft voice asked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Wheeljack murmured distractedly, not looking up from his energon.
“I’m sorry?”
Wheeljack looked up, startled to see Smokescreen standing there, a cube in his hand.
“Sorry, uhm, what was that?” Wheeljack asked.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” the Datsun repeated, touching the back of the empty chair with one blue finger.
“Uhm, yeah, sure. Go ahead,” Wheeljack replied, turning back to his drink.
“It’s surprisingly full in here tonight,” Smokescreen said conversationally.
“Yup,” Wheeljack replied, barely listening.
“I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, as the humans say,” Smokescreen continued. “After all, everyone seems relaxed, so maybe that’ll mean a bit of a better attitude around here.”
“Uhn hunh,” Wheeljack muttered, only looking up at his energon to glance over at Ratchet and Prowl.
Smokescreen sat silently, examining Wheeljack as the engineer pretended that he was just distracted. Finally, Smokescreen broached the obvious subject.
“They look good together,” he said, inclining his head toward the far table.
“Yeah. … They do,” Wheeljack replied sadly.
“Funny,” Smokescreen said. “I would have figured you of all people would have been happy for him.”
“What?” Wheeljack said, suddenly fully in tune with the conversation. “Of course I’m happy for him. He’s my best friend. I want him to be happy.”
“Of course you do,” Smokescreen replied.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wheeljack said defensively.
“It doesn’t mean anything except that I agree with you,” Smokescreen shrugged. “It’s about time that Ratchet stepped out a little. After all, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him with anyone.”
“He hasn’t been,” Wheeljack said, more to his cube than to Smokescreen.
“That’s surprising. I would have figured that a mech like him would have … Well, maybe not. He is rather private.”
“He is,” Wheeljack said.
“Still, I'd have figured that someone would have made a move already,” Smokescreen said with a pointed look at Wheeljack.
“I doubt he would have appreciated that,” the engineer replied.
“It’s been my experience that some mechs wouldn’t know a good thing if it came up and bit them on the aft,” Smokescreen said with a shrug.
“And sometimes it’s not a question of not knowing. Sometimes it’s just best to leave a good thing as it is,” Wheljack grumbled.
“Is that why you’ve refused to do anything?”
Wheeljack looked up sharply at Smokescreen.
“What are you talking about?” he asked defensively.
“Look, Jack, I know you’re friends and all, but I also know that … well, let’s just say that I’ve always been very good at noticing what others refuse to look at,” Smokescreen finished.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wheeljack said to his cube.
Smokescreen took another sip of his energon then focused a piercing gaze on his tablemate.
“You can keep lying to yourself or you can do something,” he said. “As I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can actually do something about this. You can tell him how you feel … Don’t say that you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Smokescreen said sharply as Wheeljack started to protest.
When he was sure that Wheeljack wasn’t going to interrupt again he continued, “As I said, you can tell him how you feel or you can get over this. Find someone else. Move on with your life and stop pining.”
“I’m not pining,” Wheeljack grumbled darkly.
“Oh really? And that’s why you’re sitting here all by yourself in a room full of other mechs?” Smokescreen said. “Some of whom would have no problem at all with you approaching them.”
Wheeljack snorted indelicately and took a large swig of his energon. Then, after a moment he looked up at Smokescreen.
“The truth is, I’m not pining,” he said softly. “The truth is, I’m over him. I mean, do you really think that I would have gone along with that scheme of yours if I wasn’t?”
“Yes. I do,” Smokescreen replied. “I think that you’d do anything to ensure his happiness. Even if it means that you’re miserable.”
Wheeljack looked up and seemed about to argue the point, but then dropped his head and stared into the bottom of his cube. He was silent for a long time, and Smokescreen didn’t interrupt. He knew that the engineer would open up when he was ready. His patience was rewarded when Wheeljack looked up, his optics on Ratchet and Prowl.
“I am genuinely happy for him. I really am, and that’s not me putting up a brave front,” he said softly. “I’m just … I don’t know … There’s a portion of me that’s … jealous.” This last word was added in a whisper.
He looked back down into his cube and sighed.
“But I am happy for him, and I wouldn’t change our relationship for the world,” he continued, never looking up. “I do love him, but he’s like a brother to me. I don’t know what I’d do without him, but it’s not … it’s not what it was.”
“So you’ve moved on then? You’re going to stop waiting around and get on with your life?” Smokescreen asked.
“Yes. I have. And I will,” Wheeljack said, looking up at the Datsun.
“Good. It’s about time,” Smokescreen said. He tossed back his energon and stood up. “I hate seeing you miserable.”
“Thanks, Smokescreen. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed to talk to someone,” Wheeljack said, looking less morose.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Smokescreen said as he walked away.
Wheeljack finished his energon and looked up to where Prowl and Ratchet were. He smiled slightly to himself and the couple stood and walked out of the Oil Bar. They weren’t touching in any way, but everything about them said ‘couple’. It really was good to see his old friend happy, he thought.
Suddenly he felt hands on his shoulder and lips brushing against his left audio light.
“Now that you’re done waiting for the doc, remember that I’m still nearby,” a soft voice said, the barest hint of the Towers in the accent.
Then, as quickly as they came, the hands were gone.
“Blue?” Wheeljack whispered, turning around to scan the room.
But Smokescreen was nowhere in sight.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 15 Jan 2008 04:52 (UTC)...Joking. That's excellent. :D I really do prefer the more introspective stuff and/or just basic interactions, and maybe that'll finally sell me on them.
Er. Do you mind if I friend you? (I won't be offended if you ask me not to.)
no subject
Date: 15 Jan 2008 05:13 (UTC)Mind you I will friend you back. So be warned ;P
And I will look at my future stories as a challenge to convert you to Ratchet/Prowl!
Edit: I really have to learn to check people's user info every once in a while. I never put two and two together and connected you with your FF.Net account! So a belated 'Hello again and thank you for much advice in the past!'
no subject
Date: 15 Jan 2008 06:03 (UTC)I shall be sure to tell you what I like and what doesn't work for me, then!
Ha, at least my LJ name is completely different. I have, more often than I'd like to admit, had long discussions with people from, well, for example, FF.net who do have the same name and I've not realized until at least halfway through.
no subject
Date: 15 Jan 2008 11:47 (UTC)That would be fantastic! I can always use constructive criticism :)